


Mischief Managed

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sideswipe potentially has met his match.





	Mischief Managed

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: For a young ratchet prompt, perhaps a prank war between Ratchet and Sideswipe, or at least general mutual mischief?

                “What the…?” Ratchet lifted up his favorite wrench only to nearly have it slip from his grip. He had to do some fancy juggling to keep it in his hands, all the while transferring the slippery stuff the wrench had been lying in to all of his fingers. A careful sniff suggested that it was merely artificial lubricant, but it was still an inconvenience.

                “Oh ho, they finally got you, huh?” First Aid cheerfully called out from his desk.

                Ratchet turned around, wiping his hands off on a rag. “What do you mean? Who?”

                “The Twins. Well… Sideswipe more than anyone. Sunstreaker goes along with things, but Sideswipe is the mastermind. He’s been staying clear of you this whole time; I guess the honeymoon couldn’t last forever.”

                “Sideswipe did this?” Ratchet asked, holding up his wrench. “Why?”

                First Aid shrugged. “Sometimes people torque him off. Other times… who knows? No one really understands that one, ‘cept maybe his twin.”

                Ratchet regarded his wrench with a frown. “Huh,” he said. It was his only comment on the matter.

 

                --

 

                Two days later, Sideswipe bolted through the doors, ran across the Medical Bay treatment floor, and came to a screeching halt in front of Ratchet. He gestured to himself while Ratchet fought not to laugh at Sideswipe’s appearance.

                “Did you do this?” Sideswipe demanded.

                Ratchet looked the frontliner over, biting his lip at the bright pink welds. It had been an easy enough prank: a little nanite dye mixed in with the solder. It would only activate again with the application of heat. Like from getting a shower. Ratchet was honestly a little surprised it had taken Sideswipe this long. Or rather, that it had taken Sunstreaker this long to drag his twin to a washrack after being discharged a few hours ago.

                “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? Is this something new Sunstreaker is doing?” Ratchet asked, doing his best to keep his voice even.

                “Definitely not. Pink and red do not mix,” Sunstreaker said, coming up behind his twin at a much more sedate pace. He, at least, seemed more amused than anything.

                “You had to have done this! You’re the one who did my repairs!” Sideswipe insisted.

                Ratchet affected his most innocent look, grabbed his wrench which had received its lubricant bath the other day and waved it under Sideswipe’s nasal ridge. “What exactly did I do to make you mad enough at me to abuse my tools?”

                Sideswipe blinked several times in surprise. “Mad? I wasn’t mad at you. I just… it’s what I do. I mean… uh…”

                “Ah, so you two know you’re enough to handle as it is without pranks involved. You thought to get me used to you in general first and then start adding on quirk after quirk?” Ratchet returned. He placed his hands on his hips and glared up at Sideswipe.

                Sideswipe was silent for a moment, before breaking out in a huge grin. “Something like that – how’re you toleratin’ me now?”

                Ratchet whipped the wrench around, only avoiding Sideswipe’s helm because he ducked. “Pretty damn poorly at the moment! Get out and don’t touch my tools again!”

                Laughing, Sideswipe danced backwards, pointing a finger at Ratchet. “Talk to Command, Cuteness – they all know by now that telling me not to do something only makes me want to do it all the more!”

                He ran back out of MedBay, leaving just Ratchet and Sunstreaker behind. Sunstreaker was looking at Ratchet with an approving expression, one which absolutely did not make Ratchet’s spark flutter.

                “What?” Ratchet snapped. “Are you the next up? What’s your quirk?”

                “Me? What you see is what you get,” Sunstreaker retorted, pushing himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. He turned to walk away.

                “Great. I was hoping the staring would die down some,” Ratchet muttered to himself. Or at least he thought it was quiet enough. Sunstreaker turned back around, making Ratchet back up a step.

                “Staring?” Sunstreaker questioned, looking honestly confused.

                “You… you stare at me all the time,” Ratchet said. “Did you not realize?”

                Sunstreaker furrowed his forehelm and frowned. “No… I actually didn’t. It bothers you?”

                “Well…” Now was the time to tell Sunstreaker off, so Ratchet could walk across a room with all three of them in it and not feel his back plating prickle from a very specific set of optics.

                “I… I mean… it used to…” Ratchet said slowly before abruptly clamping his mouth shut. What was he doing?!

                “Sides would say that that’s pretty much permission to keep on doing it,” Sunstreaker said, his faceplates smoothing out. As he took a few steps forward, the corners of his lips curved up.

                “Now, I didn’t say that!” Ratchet protested, backing up until his aft hit his desk. Unable to go any further, he raised his chin up at the frontliner.

                “No? Then what are you saying?” Sunstreaker stepped in close, peering down at Ratchet with mischievous optics. It was a look better suited for Sideswipe, but Sunstreaker wore it well. And Ratchet realized that this was it. This was Sunstreaker’s quirk – get him comfortable enough with you and you learned that he was more than just an intimidating presence, a dangerous warrior.

                He could, and would, banter and play if the mood took him.

                Damn it if it wasn’t endearing.

                “I’m saying to get out!” Ratchet said after sputtering a bit. “I have work to do!”

                “Right. Work. Well, then I’ll leave you to it,” Sunstreaker said, giving Ratchet a little salute. He started backing away, still wearing that adorable half-smile. “And hey…

                “Yes? What?” Ratchet asked, when he finally felt there was enough distance between the two of them.

                “… you didn’t hear it from me, but nice job on Sideswipe. Think I’ll leave him that way for a while.”

                With a wink of one violet-blue optic, he turned and strode off.

                It wasn’t fair, Ratchet thought to himself morosely. It wasn’t fair that they were turning into actual multi-faceted people that Ratchet actually, kinda-sorta liked.

                Well, maybe like was a strong word.

                Certainly not hated.

                Tolerated. Yes, tolerated. Ratchet would continue to cling to that word for as long as he could.

 

~ End


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